Keeping Up Appearances
by tprillahfiction
Summary: Chap#1-Spock deals with an actor's young family. Chap#2-McCoy reluctantly deals with life in 1967. Chap#3-Kirk, Spock and McCoy are late for work at Desilu studios.Chap 4: Filming day at Desilu Studos. The three fill in for the actors. Reluctantly. HUMOR
1. Chapter 1

"Keeping Up Appearances"

Author: T'Prillah

Star Trek, TOS, gen, humor

Summary: Spock finds himself back in time in the late 1960's. And finds that he doesn't know as much as he thinks.

Rating: PG13,

Disclaimer: Star Trek is owned by Paramount, CBS, Viacom. All names of living persons have been omitted to avoid any invasion of privacy. This is only written in fun.

Author's note: Written with acknowledgment to the short storys: "Visit to a Wierd Planet" and "Visit to a Wierd Planet Revisited" Both I believe are by Jean Lorrah. I wanted to write a story where Spock actually has to deal with life in the '60s. On the show he brags incessantly about his knowlege about 'your late 1960's'. Ha!

* * *

KEEPING UP APPEARANCES

"Leonard!"

The man in the slim trousers, trendy black turtleneck and tan corduroy jacket turned to the woman who claimed to be his wife. "Yes?"

He just now was becoming comfortable answering to that name. The name that belonged to the chief medical officer on his ship.

"Are you going to take your hat off? Or are you just going to keep it on forever?"

The crocheted black hat was scrunched down around his ears to keep the woman and indeed the rest of this world from realizing that he was not one of them; he was an alien, stuck in this time. He touched his hat in a protective stance against the woman, and this world.

This woman, as far as his precursory knowledge had told him, was apparently married to the man he resembled. An actor. A human man with the name of 'Leonard' with a house and family in Los Angeles, California.

He and his two companions were in process of beaming down to Gamma Sudra II and instead due to a rip in time, found themselves trapped in a different time and place. They materialized on Earth, in the 20th century, the late 1960's by his calculations. In a twist of irony, there was something called a 'Television Show, named Star Trek, that featured the adventures of his Enterprise. Featuring the 'characters' of Captain Kirk, Doctor McCoy and himself: First Officer Spock. Fasinating.

The captain, Doctor McCoy and himself, found themselves beamed into a transporter room which had become a 3 sided room with bright blinding lights, a peculiar, large recording device pointed at them and all sorts of men standing watching them in a large area known as a 'Television Studio'. The captain had decided it was best to keep up pretenses that they were these actors, as to not affect the time stream. That was somewhat acceptable for the daytime; the process being interesting even slightly enjoyable. Then the time came for the work day to come to a close for the weekend. The captain also had decided that each of them would chance going home to their respective actor's families as not to frighten the spouses of the actors. _Perhaps an unwise decision on the captain's part_, Spock surmised.

Spock continued to stare intently at the woman and did not know what sort of conversation he should be having with her.

"Daddy!" Two children ran up and hugged him, and he shied away from their touch and emotions; the woman of course noticed.

"Dammit Leonard," said the woman. "You've been gone all day long and the least you could do is hug your children."

"I am sorry." replied Spock. "And you, children." He at once wished that he had found out their names prior to leaving the studio.

"That's okay, Daddy." said the boy.

"We didn't hear you pull up dad, where's the car?" asked the girl.

"I did not bring the car home." He could not successfully drive a 20th century ground car nor could Doctor McCoy or even the captain. After much discussion and many attempts, so they all took public transportation home, known as 'cabs' in this Earth colloquialism.

"You took a cab home? You're not drunk are you?" asked the wife.

Spock suppressed a grimace at this far too inquisitive wife of the actor. "I am not. I do not drink."

"That's a laugh, it's a friday," said the woman.

"Eh, daddy, after we eat dinner do you want to play some chess?" asked the boy.

At last a refreshing similarity to his own time. "I would indeed," said Spock as the two kids went off to get ready for dinner. He would look forward to playing a game of chess with this child.

The woman looked at him in disapproval, "You might also want to drop the Spock act, Leonard."

He raised an eyebrow. "The Spock act?"

"Yes, exactly what you're doing right now. The raised eyebrow, the non emotional stuff. I've been meaning to talk to you about that for some time. You are taking your work home with you far too much. It's really affecting our marriage. You're not really that guy you know."

Spock nodded. To avoid detection, he was going to have to act as un-'Spock like' as he possibly could, but the unfortunate thing was, he did not know how.

He raised his hands in a 'mea culpa' like motion that he'd seen humans do a thousand times. "The only thing, I can do, is apologize."

"Yeah, that's about all you ever do," she snapped as she stalked off to work on dinner.

He was alone, for the moment and decided to investigate the remainder of the house to get an idea of what this person he was meant to impersonate was like. He walked from the living area with it's large blue sofa and large paintings on the wall into the music room. This man owned several musical instruments which Spock himself could play. That in itself was comforting. But there was an odd device on the shelf that caught Spock's eye. It had a flat turntable with an arm-like appendage attached to it. Underneath the arm there was a tiny diamond needle that made a loud scratching sound when he touched it. What was it for? Perhaps the answer lay in several black disks that were stacked neatly nearby in paper sleeves. He pulled one out and looked at it: "Mr Spock's music from outer Space." There was a picture of himself on it. Fascinating. This was apparently a device to play music recordings. Albeit Primitive.

"Leonard!" the woman's voice called from the other room. "Or Mister Spock! Whatever you're calling yourself these days!"

Ah, the female's attempt at humor.

"Telephone for you!"

'Telephone? What is a telephone?' he wondered; as he walked back into the living quarters… or rather the living room. He looked quizzically at her, till she handed him a black object and went off into the kitchen. He was now holding was appeared to be a primitive communications device. He spoke into what he hoped was the proper receiver. "Uh…Leonard…here."

"Spock?" a familiar voice. "How's everything going?"

"Awkward, Jim. Awkward." Spock whispered into the receiver so the family wouldn't hear. "You should have realized that impersonating a human to his own family for me would be at the very least difficult if not impossible."

"Oh," said Captain James T. Kirk. "I'm sorry about that. I can't say the same for me. I've been having the best sex of my life."

"Jim, are you certain that is wise?"

"No…I guess not… but I thought, that since that guy I'm supposed to be impersonating and I look exactly the same, there was no harm in it. Besides, I couldn't resist his wife, she was wearing nothing but these…"

"Jim…" Spock interrupted. "I do not want to know."

"Sorry," the captain said sheepishly.

"Have you endeavored to contact Doctor McCoy?"

"Yeah, he's fine."

An eyebrow went up. "Fine? Are you certain?"

"Yeah, he's having a blast playing with a dog… it's a Schnoodle, and a turtle."

"Turtle?" asked Spock incredulously.

"Yeah, 'Myrtle the Turtle', apparently." That started off a bout of hysterical laughter from the captain.

"Jim," said Spock impatiently. "I am overjoyed that you are having an agreeable time in this adventure but I am not."

"Sorry Spock. You are going to have to deal with it till we get back to the studio on Monday morning. That at least will give Scotty time to locate us."

"Yes, an effort that will in of itself be difficult since that gentleman insisted on taking our communicators and phasers and even my tricorder away from us as we left the studio."

"Oh yeah," said Kirk. "The properties man, correct? Yeah, he claims that he has control over all the 'props' so what could I do? I couldn't insist we take our communicators 'home' with us. That would have given us away. He had the determination of a Fleet Admiral."

"Yes Jim," Spock replied. "But what if he is to find that they are in fact: working phaser's and communicators…"

"Yeah Spock I know, we'll have to take that chance. I'm sure he's just locked them up… Uh Spock…I have to go now. She's back."

"I see."

"Spock. Just find a way to deal with it till Monday. Okay? Bye Spock." There was a click and the captain's voice was gone. Spock did not know what to do with the receiver next so simply laid it down.

"Dinner's ready!" the woman said as she placed food on the table.

"Does the dinner, by any chance contain, animal flesh?" Spock inquired, then immediately wished he hadn't.

"Yeah it does contain animal flesh. Oh, are we now becoming a vegetarian just like Spock?"

Spock said nothing as he joined the family around the table. As the family ate dinner and chatted around him; himself attempting to field questions about how his 'day' was, he picked at his food much to the annoyance of the woman. Spock could sense the woman's growing irritation at him but he was helpless to do anything about it. Finally the torture that was a family dinner was over and the kids helped their mother clear the dishes from the table. Spock was determined to get into the woman's good graces at least for the weekend.

"I could…assist you…with clean up," he offered.

"No Len, I can handle it. How about you play some chess with your son?"

Len? Now it was Len? He gratefully sauntered off to find the boy and the chess set. When he found them, he was disappointed. It was not a three dimensional board; simply a flat version. "This is it?" he demanded of the child.

"Yeah dad, what color do you want to be?"

"He would let the child go first. "Black," said Spock.

As they played he noticed the child showed remarkable talent but Spock of course won. "Wow, dad!" said the boy. "You played pretty good!"

"Don't I always?"

"No, you usually lose."

"I see." Spock steepled his fingers and studied the chessboard. How one could not win with a young child as an opponent was beyond him.

The woman was back, watching him with a piercing glare. "It's time for bed." she said to the boy, but not taking her eyes off Spock.

"Okay mom.." the boy sighed as he left the room.

After a time, Spock got up from the chess table and sat down on the sofa in the quiet. The woman came over and sat down very close next to him; making him feel very uncomfortable. He had been dreading this eventuality. "What's the matter?" she asked sensing his awkwardness.

"Nothing is the matter," replied Spock.

"Wanna watch some television?"

Spock nodded, perhaps that activity is what the man normally did at home. "Certainly," he said.

The woman got up to turn the knob on a device she had called a 'Television'. It appeared to be made of wood, with legs and a glass screen in the center; it warmed up for a minute till the image appeared. Spock watched the 'News with Walter Cronkite' for a few moments. "This transmission is not in color?" He asked, puzzled.

"Well, yes, but remember we haven't gotten around to buying a color set yet?"

"We will have to remedy that," Spock said. "It is difficult to successfully enjoy the image when it is not sufficiently representational…"

"Maybe I should change the channel..." She quickly flipped it to NBC.

"What is that?" asked Spock with raised eyebrow.

"What do you mean, what is that? That's your show. You know, the one that paid for this house?"

"Fasinating. That is an image of me."

"That's a brilliant observation, Leonard. Maybe I will turn the set off. I think you're a little punchy, either that or drunk," the woman said quickly as she again walked up and flipped the knob to off." Then she flopped back down on the sofa, leaned over and started to kiss him on the cheek. "You've still got your make-up on?" she discovered.

Oh oh. "Yes. There was insufficient time to remove it tonight."

"Insufficient time? Or did you just want to make love to me with your Spock make-up on?"

"No."

"Oh," she said. "I think you **are** drunk."

Spock sighed, slightly exasperated and amazed that this woman could irritate him as much as someone else: Doctor McCoy. "I assure you. I have had no alcoholic beverages. Nor do I ever. I am merely…extremely fatigued," he said as he got up and found his way to the master bedroom. Keeping this woman at bay all weekend was going to be a insurmountable task. He walked into the large closet, found some night clothes that this man would obviously wear and got ready for bed. He crawled into bed and under the covers, still wearing the black cap.

The woman of course followed him into the bedroom but moved to the connecting bathroom. Gladly she took longer to do her involutions than he had just done. As he struggled to fall asleep before she returned, he noted that she stayed 25.34 minutes in the shower, a device that obviously sprayed real water not Sonics as he was used to. The water spray was annoyingly loud to his ears.

He was nearly asleep when she crawled into bed. "Leonard," she said softly. "Look what I bought for you today."

He opened his eyes, looked around for the gift and could find none. "I do not see anything."

"It's right here, you lunk head. I'm wearing it! This new nightie! Do you like it?"

This woman did not give up easily. "It is agreeable for your figure," said Spock.

"Agreeable?! Just what the hell does that mean?"

Oh no, he had upset the woman, once again.

"You know, Leonard. I keep in shape for you and everything and the least you could do is say something better than that. You've been acting kooky all evening, and you're still….STILL wearing that damn make-up of yours and that damn hat!" She snatched at the hat but he avoided her grasp.

"My apologies, but there was no offense meant at your appearance. I merely meant, that you looked well in your night clothing," Spock attempted.

The woman started to cry. "You can't even stop sounding like Spock, anymore…"

Spock was at a loss at how he could help this woman and instead stared at her blankly. "I'm sorry. I really am. Please don't cry," he said, helplessly.

She nodded and dried her tears. "I know you work hard, at what you do and that you're really tired. I'm sorry too."

After a few moments the woman leaned over to kiss him tenderly. He gave in reluctantly, knowing he had to keep up appearances.

The next morning the telephone rang and the woman reached over to answer it.

"It's for you Leonard!" her voice rang out sweetly. Spock took the receiver from her and held it up to his ear. "Leonard here."

"Good morning Spock!" said Captain Kirk. "Hey, why is that woman so happy?"

Spock looked over at the woman, and she winked at him. "I do not know…Jim."

* * *

finis


	2. Chapter 2

Title: "Keeping Up Appearances" chapter 2

Author: T'Prillah

Series: STAR TREK, TOS

Summary: Dr. McCoy reluctantly deals with life in the 1960's. Gen, humor

Rated: K+

Author's note: This is just pure silliness, so no flames please. Any similarity to real life person's or their lives is purely coincidental. Names of real life people in the '60's have been removed to protect privacy.

* * *

KEEPING UP APPEARANCES

(chapter 2...McCoy)

* * *

"You're not my husband."

The brown haired, blue eyed man in the comfortable button down white shirt, striped sweater and black trousers gaped at the woman in shock. "Whatever gave you that idea?"

"I know my husband, and well, you're sure not acting like him. Unless you're going senile, and that would be very strange as you're only 47 years old. But you seem so different this evening. You've hardly touched your dinner. You almost look like you are... lost, somehow," said the woman of the man, as he sat with her at the dining room table.

"Very funny. Who else would I be?" he snapped. The truth of the matter was, he wasn't her husband, she was absolutely correct. He looked exactly like the man she was married to, but he wasn't of this world and not of this time. He was from the earth in the 23rd century and Chief Medical Officer of the USS Enterprise. A man who normally went by the name of Doctor Leonard McCoy.

McCoy and his two companions: Captain James T. Kirk and Science Officer Spock, had been in the process of beaming down to Gamma Sudra II from the Enterprise, and instead, due to a rip in time, found themselves trapped in a different time and place. They'd found themselves materialized on Earth, in the 20th century; the late 1960's old earth calendar, according to their calculations. And apparently the Enterprise, the crew, their very lives were chronicled in something called a 'Television Show'.

The trio had found themselves beamed into another Enterprise transporter room which had become a three sided 'set' with bright lights overhead, a funny looking recording device pointed at them and a grouchy, overweight man yelling "cut" in a large cavernous area known as a soundstage. Everyone there appeared irritated with them for not following something called a script and sent them all to their dressing rooms; the three men finally finding those with some trouble, after managing to figure out what the hell a dressing room even was. The filming wrapped up for the weekend, with the director and producer grumbling something about blowing a budget.

In the meantime, Spock and the captain (mostly the captain) had decided it was best for the three to keep up appearances that they themselves were these actors, as not to upset the time stream. So they'd played along with it. Then, Jim got the crazy idea, that each man would actually go home to these actor's families for the weekend in an attempt to impersonate them, as not to upset the families of the actors. Oh joy.

"Well," the woman said. "Maybe you are my husband; you have to be. But, why does your voice sound so harsh?" Suspicion continued to cloud her pretty features.

Doctor McCoy smiled at her, then softened his voice. "Is this better?"

"De?" The woman searched his blue eyes, almost frightened of him.

McCoy looked back at the woman with all the confidence he could muster. He'd learnt the actor's full name in an ID card, known as a 'driver's license'; featuring a picture of himself on it; in the guy's wallet left in the studio dressing room. 'De' was apparently the guy's nickname. "Yes," McCoy responded as he gently grabbed onto her shoulders and returned her deep soul searching gaze. "It's me. Your husband."

"Are you cracking up?"

He chuckled and glanced downward, it was going to be a difficult weekend with this lady. "Do you have anything to drink around here?"

"Well, that's better," answered the lady, relieved. "It makes me feel a lot better about you that we're having our usual after dinner drink. I'll go fix it. Your usual?"

"Yeah, I'll have a Bourbon, straight," McCoy replied without thinking.

"Bourbon? Not Vodka and water?"

He sighed. "Okay, Vodka it is." He would just have to deal with the awful taste for now. "Sweetheart," he said, hoping that was the man's usual pet name for his wife. "Just go fix me a drink, please. I've had a rough day."

"Certainly dear, but while I fix it, I've got lots of trash for you to take out."

"Trash?"

"Yes the kitchen can is filled up and I need it taken out--"

"My dear," said McCoy indignantly. "I'm a doctor, not a garbage man."

The woman laughed sweetly. "You're saying that just like Doctor McCoy! That's sweet! Now go take out the trash."

He shook his head. "Alright. Alright. I'm going. Don't we pay people to do that for us?" Grumbling to himself, he wandered around, looking for the kitchen and found it rather too quickly. _This house is a little small for a movie star_, he thought. He'd been shocked when he'd pulled up to this address. Wasn't this guy supposed to be a movie star? Didn't they live in huge mansions? At least that's what came up on the tri-corder before it was confiscated by the properties man. The prop man had pulled his communicator, phaser, even his medical scanner away from McCoy, leaving him feeling totally naked and vulnerable.

He pulled the full bag of trash out of the metal kitchen can; opened some drawers and found a tie in the kitchen drawer to tie it up with; hoping that was how one even took out the trash in this century.

Then he heard the patter of little feet walking up to him in the kitchen.

"Oh, hey, little fella," he said to the dog. It took one sniff of him then growled and barked. "How ya doing, little guy? I won't hurt you."

"Can you feed Cheers?" came the voice from the living room. "He's hungry."

"Gods," said McCoy to the dog. "Do this, do that, I thought I was supposed to be a goddamned movie star--"

"Is that you swearing in there?" called the voice.

"No, sweetheart! It's me taking out the trash! Okay, I'll feed the dog when I'm finished."

"Be careful out front, its still light outside. There's a bunch of children playing across the street."

"What's that got to do with anything," McCoy called as he grabbed the bag and opened the front door. "I'll just be a minute." He was bewildered at her sudden concern for his safety. Noticing she'd specified: 'out front'; he marched out the front door, strode up to the cans on the curb and slammed the bag into one of them.

"Hey!" yelled one of the children across the street as they spotted him. "It's Doctor McCoy!" The large group suddenly ran across the street and surrounded him. "Hi Doctor McCoy!" they chimed in unison.

"Hi there, kids."

"Did the Enterprise blast anymore Klingon's today...go on, say: 'he's dead Jim'... how's Mister Spock...is he still on the Enterprise...is Scotty going to beam you up... has Scotty fixed the ship again...are you going on any more planets...go on say it, please, say: 'he's dead Jim!'" demanded the children of him, all at once.

"He's dead, Jim," chuckled McCoy. The kids screamed and laughed in delight. McCoy smiled but shook his head quizzically as they continued to swarm around him and press. He tried to back away from them but they circled him, effectively trapping him in. It was swiftly becoming uncomfortable.

"Hey children!" called the woman from the porch. "Doctor McCoy needs to get back into the house. He's had a long day in sickbay."

"Awwwwlllll," complained the kids, but they did not move.

The woman stormed off the porch, stalked up and grabbed the doctor by the arm. "Children, now, enough is enough. Now go back home," she said sternly. "And nobody steals our roses this time. Got it?" The children grumbled, slowly dispersed and slunk dejectedly back to across the street to where they stood watching him.

"Bye, kids," waved McCoy. "Thanks," he said to the wife.

"Come on, honey, let's go back into the house," she said, till she spotted the empty driveway and stopped in her tracks. "Hey De? Where's your car?"

_Oh oh_, thought McCoy.

He hemmed and hawed while he searched for a suitable answer for her that wouldn't arouse too much suspicion from her. He couldn't successfully drive an earth ground car, after much discussion with Spock and the captain and many attempts so the three of them decided to take public transport home or better known as 'cabs'. It was just like taking a cab home in the 23rd century. Except these 20th century cabs were black and while with a checkerboard across the door, had ground wheels, were a lot smellier, and not driven by Tellerites. Actually, come to think of it, the cabs in the 23rd century were just as smelly. "Uh..." drawled McCoy as he propelled the wife back into the house. "It's still at the studio."

"Why?"

"Because," he stammered as he fished for an answer. "It... wouldn't start. I took a cab home."

"It wouldn't start? But it's a brand new car."

"I know, I know. Damnedest thing. Really."

The woman again looked at him suspiciously. "Well, what are we going to do for Saturday, then? Mine is still at the mechanic. What about driving down to Long Beach?"

"Long Beach?!" That town had long since fallen into the ocean after the big earthquake of 2189; McCoy had only heard of it from history tapes of old California. "What the devil is so great about Long Beach?" The wife gave him a dirty look. "Okay...okay...forget I asked. Listen, how about you and I just stay right around here? We could go for a walk up to that restaurant that's just down the road, tomorrow."

"Walk? In the heat? You'll get recognized. And mobbed. You know what happened last week at the grocery store."

"Well, I'm not going be a prisoner in the house all weekend. I'm here and I'm damn well going to enjoy myself. I'll put on a hood or something, it'll be okay," said McCoy.

As the woman gave him a puzzled look, McCoy walked into the kitchen to feed the dog. He searched around for the packets of dog food for a long while, quickly becoming frustrated. "Hey sweetheart?" he called to the living room. "Where in the name of god, is the dog food?"

"It's right there in front of you," she called. "The tin can's on the kitchen counter."

"What, this?" he asked as he picked up the can. "This is dog food?" As he inspected it, he noticed the picture of a little dog that looked just like Cheers on the label. _Great_, he thought. _The dog is a movie-star, too_. "And how in blazes do I open this?" he mumbled to himself as he studied the can. It was sealed shut and it appeared to have no way to pop the seal.

"Are you okay in there? Hurry up, so you can have your drink!" the woman called back at him.

"I'm a doctor, I should be able to figure this damn thing out," he mumbled to himself, perplexed as he hefted the can. But he could not figure the damn thing out. As he examined it he realized it wasn't actually 'tin' but , aluminum, probably an alloy. Who the hell still sealed things in aluminum? Didn't they realize it leached into the food? Was it just dog food they stored in this way? Or all their food? He opened up a cabinet door to investigate and got his answer. He then opened up something that resembled a cold storage unit but not as efficient, and realized with relief that actually quite a bit of their food was actually fresh. So they ate it both ways. Well at least it wasn't re-constituted.

"De?" called the woman impatiently.

"Just a minute," his voice rang out extra sweetly.

"Are you okay? What's taking so long?"

"I'm fine! Just a MINUTE!, I said," he called back, increasingly annoyed, not quite turning into anger, but almost. It was amazing, this woman could irritate him so much, like somebody else he knew: Spock. _I wonder how that Vulcan's getting along anyway_, McCoy thought, chuckling to himself, as he tried to picture Spock dealing with a wife and two kids all weekend. "Okay, sweetheart," he called out. "Don't be alarmed, but could you just come in here a minute, please?"

The woman entered from the other room in an instant. "What is it?"

"Just quickly show me how to open this can of dog food before I throw it across the room."

"What? Don't you know? But you always feed the dog. The can opener is right there. Are you feeling alright, honey?"

"Where?"

"The Rival, sitting on the counter."

He looked at the contraption and sighed. The day was getting worse and worse. "What, that thing? That's a can opener?"

"You brought it home, De. It was the best that blue chip stamps could get. Don't you remember?"

Blue chip stamps? Oh, right, McCoy realized. He had read something on the tri-corder about the S & H Green /Blue Chip voucher system prevalent in the old USA throughout the 1960's and 70's. When you bought groceries, you got stamps, when you bought the gasoline they used to power their automobiles, you got stamps. It was an incentive program. Stamps could be redeemed for anything; toys, appliances, anything. The more you had saved up the bigger and better things you could get. "That thing must of cost a hell of lot of stamps," McCoy observed.

"Two thousand," she replied without missing a beat. "See?" She pulled a little book out of a drawer and showed him.

McCoy spotted some loose stamps laying in the bottom of the drawer. He pulled one out and examined it. "I suppose I stuck all these stamps in these little books, too."

"Well, of course you did. You really enjoy doing that. Don't you remember?"

"Sure, I do...and I definitely need a drink," said McCoy as he shook his head at the thought of the guy patiently sticking stamps in books.

"Well, it's waiting for you in the living room."

"No, I need a real drink," McCoy said as passed the can over to the wife. "You open this. I'm going into the other room," he said shakily, hoping dearly that the booze at least was stored in glass bottles.

He flopped onto the sofa and nervously sipped at the drink she'd made till the wife rejoined him on the sofa and the dog followed, still growling at him. "Nice doggie," he said.

"Okay honey," said the wife. "You are frightening me. Please tell me what is going on with you."

"What do you mean, I'm frightening you?" asked McCoy a little too gruffly.

"Well, for one thing, the dog acts like he doesn't even recognize you. You seem very, very odd," she said. "I'm really worried about you. Maybe you need a nap. or maybe a cigarette."

A nap. Yeah, that'll solve everything. Maybe if he closed his eyes, and re-opened them, this nightmare he was in would disappear and he'd be back on the Enterprise. Or maybe not. Well, a cigarette definately wasn't going to help. "People still smoke in this day and age?" asked McCoy.

"Hmmm. Maybe I'll just call the doctor.."

McCoy reached out to grab her hand. "No, don't," he sighed. "I can't lie to you. I just can't do it, you know your husband too well." He paused and looked at her, thought: _what the hell, _then continued softly. "What would you do if I told you a really incredible story, would you believe it?"

"Depends on what it was," she said. Then her eyes suddenly widened. "You don't want a divorce, do you?"

"No! It's nothing like that. And I'm not having an affair, either," he laughed, anticipating her next question. "But, bear with me, I have something really, really bizarre to tell you. So, I'll just come right out with it," He hesitated, then continued. "Look, I'm not really your husband. I look exactly like him, but I'm not. I've been trying to pretend that I'm him all day, but I just can't fool you. I'm sorry."

"What?" She jumped up from the sofa, "What is the matter with you? What do you mean, you're not really my husband," she stammered.

"If I finish telling you the whole truth, will you please just remain calm? Okay. You know that television show that your husband is in..."

"Star Trek?"

"Yes, I'm really that guy that he plays on television. I'm Leonard McCoy. It's all real. I'm really from the future. There was a... some sort of ion storm or something...it's uh... like a cloud of electricity... and our...uh... transporter malfunctioned and here we are, beamed into this television studio set that looks just like our very own Enterprise...and...oh god why are you looking at me like that..."

"Now I'm really calling the doctor--"

"No!...don't. Okay? Just don't. Come on, sweetheart."

She huffed at him and folded her arms. "Don't sweetheart me! You're making me very angry, De."

"Well, first of all, my name is Leonard. Not De."

The woman sighed. "Uh, huh. And I suppose that Mister Spock is real too."

"Actually he_ is_ real. With real pointy ears. And so is Captain Kirk."

"Why are you doing this to me? It's not funny!" Tears welled up in her eyes.

"Oh, please...please don't cry," McCoy said as he walked up to her and patted her arm. "Look, you didn't believe that I was your husband when I first came home, so, now I'm telling you the truth. I am most emphatically, not him."

"So if you're telling me the truth, then where is my husband?" asked the woman.

McCoy stared up at the ceiling. "Up on the Enterprise in the 23rd century. Probably trying to make sense of my sickbay, hopefully not messing the place up."

The wife got very quiet. "And if what you are telling me is true, will he be okay?"

"Oh...he's fine! Honest! Chapel's probably looking after him. And he'll be back soon as soon as Scotty can pull us back."

"Chapel as in Nurse Christine Chapel?" she asked, becoming angry again as McCoy nodded back at her happily.

"Yes, that's just what I'd said," McCoy called after her as she stormed off the sofa and stalked to the sliding glass door to let herself into the back yard outside. "You really don't believe me, do you," he called after her.

"No. But now I think you're having an affair. With that nurse gal."

"Listen," McCoy said, exasperated as he followed the woman with his drink, to the backyard outside. "When your husband does return, he's going to have just as fantastic of a story as I do."

"I'll bet!"

"And so will the other two, you can ask them. But could you right now just give me the benefit of the doubt? Just trust me that what I'm telling you is true?"

"I know those two guys you work with and they all love a good practical joke, and this is just one of them, isn't it. And it's not at all funny. Imagine, getting your wives involved in your crazy stunts. First Leonard's bicycle and now this."

"What's a bicycle?" asked McCoy. He walked out into the grass in the backyard then looked down. "Oh my, this is beautiful, I haven't walked on grass like this in a long time."

"But you're out here every weekend...oh right, you don't have grass in the 23rd century."

"Well we do, but not on the Enterprise. And I haven't been to Earth in a long time."

"Don't say that so loud, we do have neighbors!" the woman hissed.

McCoy laughed. "Sorry." He sat down on the grass cross legged. "God, this is so nice. It's beautiful out here, look at those beautiful roses. Hey," he said, beckoning. "Come sit down here with me."

"You planted all those roses, remember? Don't you want us to sit in the lawn chairs?"

"No, let's sit right here on the grass." He patted the ground. As if on cue, the dog came bounding out of the house and walked up to him, growling softly. "Does this dog do this all the time?" he asked nervously.

"Cheers!" she said. "What's wrong with you? It's your daddy!"

"I've never seen this breed of dog before," said McCoy attempting to whistle at it to make friends, but the dog wasn't buying it. It bared it's teeth at him and emitted a sharp bark.

"It's a Schnoodle."

"A what?"

"It's a cross between a Poodle and a Schnauser," she said hesitantly.

"And what the devil is this?" he paused in shock as he glanced upon a moving shelled object, slowly making it's way up to him through the grass, pausing every once in a while to munch on a blade.

"What are you talking about? That's Myrtle."

"Myrtle? Myrtle the what?"

"Turtle. You don't know what a turtle is?"

"Well, we don't have turtles in the 23rd century. They're extinct," sighed McCoy, then it dawned on him. "Now that I think about it, I've seen images of them. But, isn't this thing a little big for a turtle?"

"I don't know. But we've had her a long time."

"Any more pets I should be concerned about? What about a cat? Or a rabbit? Or a goldfish?" asked McCoy. "How about a hamster?"

"No this is it. So they have hamsters in the 23rd century, but no turtles?"

"No turtles. I have a hamster in my lab," grinned McCoy.

"Uh huh," she replied.

Just then there was a loud ringing noise. The woman looked over at McCoy, then slowly got up, muttering as she went back into the house. McCoy watched her leave, then he reached down; picked up the turtle and examined underneath it.

"Leonard! I mean... De," the woman called out from the house. "It's for you."

"What's for me?" asked McCoy, bewildered. Was that some type of communications device he'd heard, and if it was, who the hell would be signaling him?

"The telephone call is for you!" she snapped back. "Come in here and answer it! And you have a lot of explaining to do, mister!"

He gently laid the turtle back down, got up and walked into the house and to the living room, to where she was holding a black device that she'd referred to as a 'telephone'. He looked at her before he spoke into it, and she stormed off. He timidly held it up to his ear as he'd seen people do in old images of earth, and hoped he was speaking into the correct receiver. "Uh..McC-I mean, De, here."

"_Bones_?" Captain James T. Kirk's voice rang out on the other end.

"Yeah," he said softly. "Why the hell are you so chipper this evening? I've noticed you've figured out how to use this thing."

"_Oh, I know quite a bit about life in the 1960's old Earth calendar. It was a breeze_," said Kirk, happily.

"Well, good for you, because I can't even figure out how to open up a goddamned can of dog food. Aluminum cans, Jim. They store food in aluminum!"

"_Do they? That's Disgusting_."

"I want to go home. Now, Jim."

"_I thought you of all people would be able to function in this century. Whatever happened to 'I'm just a good old-fashioned country doctor_?'"

"That went out with the goddamned Blue-Chip Stamps, Jim."

"_The what_?"

"Never mind, what do you want anyways?" McCoy snapped.

"_What's the matter bones? Are we not getting along with the wife_?"

"No. Half the time she doesn't believe it's her husband, but when I tried to tell her who I really was, she didn't believe that either."

"_So that's why she asked me what your name was. It's not a good idea to tell these people the truth about us, Bones_."

"Relax Jim, I think she just thinks her husband's snapped. But, on the bright side, they have a turtle!"

"_A what_?"

"I thought you knew so much about Earth in the 1960's. They have a turtle, named Myrtle! You know, it's an Earth amphibian, with a shell."

"_Myrtle the turtle_?" Kirk and McCoy both laughed at that in unison. "_Turtles are extinct, Bones_!"

"They are, aren't they, too bad. God I'd love to take some of this creature's DNA back home with us to clone. It's gorgeous!"

"You are not taking Myrtle home with you!" the woman's voice rang out.

"I thought this was supposed to be a private telephone call!" McCoy snapped back at her.

"_Wow_," said Kirk. "_You two really aren't getting along. Bones you don't seem to get along with anybody, do you_."

"You be quiet, Jim. You try getting along with some woman who questions your every move."

"_Well, I've been getting along famously with mine, this wife of his is really something, she and I have been, you know_..."

"Are you out of your mind?!" McCoy whispered sharply. "You can't sleep with another man's wife!"

"_Well I figured since I look exactly like the guy I'm supposed to be impersonating, there was no harm in it._"

"No harm in it? Jim, I can personally think of 25 different ways that it could go absolutely wrong. And, if you think I'm also going to do...that, you can forget it--no way in hell am I taking advantage another man's wife--"

"_Well bones, I'm sorry, but you're going to have to find a way to deal with your own situation until Monday. And, try not to kill each other okay? I've got to go._"

"Yeah, but Jim--"

"_Bye Bones_!" McCoy heard a click and the captain's voice was gone.

McCoy slammed the phone down on the hook; doing so seemed so satisfying. He needed one of these things in the 23rd century.

He slowly, reluctantly rejoined the wife on the sofa where she fumed at him for a long time. He sat, finishing his drink; not speaking to her till he couldn't stand it any longer.

"Look," he said to her. "I'm really sorry about all this." He waved his hand vaguely between them.

"Doctor McCoy indeed! And to think, I almost believed you! That's not what Bill said on the phone, you two need to get your stories straight."

McCoy held out his hands in a 'mea culpa' gesture and laughed. She threw a pillow at him in mock disgust. "Oh you!"

"I had you going for a moment, didn't I?" he said.

She finally looked over at him, and joined him in the hysterical laughter.

* * *

(End of chapter 2)


	3. Chapter 3

Title: Keeping up Appearances: Monday Morning 1967

Author: T'Prillah

Series: TOS

Codes: K, S, Mc (Humor)

Rating: G

Beta: Thanks always to McCoySpockLove. All errors are my own. Summary: Kirk, Spock and McCoy are stuck in Los Angeles, California in 1967  
for a weekend. This is Monday morning.

Disclaimer: Star Trek, the old Desilu productions and the characters of S.T. all belong to Paramount and not me. Mentions two real people (Leonard Nimoy  
and Carolyn Kelley) and any similarity to any persons living or dead is simply coincidental. Written purely in fun.

_____________________________________________

KEEPING UP APPEARANCES: MONDAY MORNING.

Monday morning. 6am. Sherman Oaks. June 1967.

Kirk and Spock pulled into the driveway of the modest abode on Greenleaf Street. Their cab driver honked the horn. However, McCoy didn't come out of the house right away.

"Don't tell me he overslept," Kirk fumed. "We're late enough already." He motioned for the driver to honk the horn again.

McCoy, finally, slowly walked out of the house, hand in hand with the wife. "I won't be back tonight, Carolyn," he said to her sweetly, "but your husband definitely will."

"It's been fun... Leonard," she giggled.

"Yes, it most certainly has, my dear." He tilted up her chin, smiled at her, then gently kissed her on the cheek. He paused, then gave her another kiss, on the other cheek. Then one more on the other cheek till he heard the car honking once again. "Hold on just a God-damned minute!" he yelled out to them. Then turned back to her. "Don't give your husband a hard time. When he gives you a crazy story, just smile and say: `Yes dear!' and don't haul out any butterfly nets even if you're tempted to!" They laughed and touched foreheads.

As soon as McCoy got into the taxi Kirk snickered at him.

"What's your problem, Jim," McCoy grumped.

"You slept with her."

"I did not."

"Did too."

"Did not."

"You did too, Bones. I know that look."

"Listen, Jim," McCoy said. "I think I've fallen in love with that woman." The cab sped off down the street as McCoy looked out the window and waved. "I've never been this content, this happy. She is something else. And no, I didn't sleep with her."

"Whatever," Kirk sniffed.

"What's the matter?" McCoy smirked. "Things not so hot with the wifey?"

"Hmph. After I spoke to you on the telephone, she and I got into a big argument about something that I have no idea what the hell was about and she kicked me out of the bedroom. I ended up in the living room with the dog. The biggest, meanest dog I've ever seen in my life. In fact, I slept on the floor. The dog got the couch."

"What about all that great sex you were bragging about?" asked McCoy.

"Never mind," said Kirk. "It wasn't that great after all."

"I told you so," McCoy snickered. "Didn't I tell you so? I said: 'Don't sleep with another man's wife, even if she is a hot, sexy, curvaceous blonde', I told you, 'You're gonna get yourself into trouble and--'"

Spock cleared his throat, loudly.

Kirk grimaced then looked over at Spock who was still wearing his black crocheted hat. "How did you and the wife get along over the weekend? Anything worth mentioning?"

"Nothing," Spock replied.

"Nothing?" Kirk wondered. "Nothing at all... to report?"

"There is nothing that I am at liberty to mention."

"I see."

"Jim, you should see his kid," McCoy said. "Spittin' image of him. Nice little boy. Too bad he's got Spock for a daddy."

"When did you see this kid of his?" Kirk asked.

"On Saturday," McCoy replied.

"You two saw each other on Saturday? And you didn't invite me over?" Kirk pouted.

"We figured you were...you know... busy, Jim."

"Oh." Kirk fell quiet. "I didn't think you'd be into socializing, Mr. Spock."

"He had ice cream," Spock reported as if that explained everything.

"And mint julips," McCoy added. "And steaks and vegetable shish kabobs and baked potatoes with butter and collard greens and--"

"I get the picture," Kirk snapped. "Bones, I thought you said the way they stored food was disgusting."

"I never said that. Anyhow, it wasn't so bad," McCoy replied. "Granted, barbecuing the stuff with those nasty charcoal briquettes is even worse for your system. I'm going to have to do a complete intestinal flush, but boy was it ever delicious and worth it. Wasn't it, Spock?"

"Indeed."

"Then we played croquet in the back yard," McCoy continued. "Spock won of course."

"Easy enough when one measures the trajectory of the balls."

"It's a game, Spock. You're not supposed to measure it. You just hit it with the damned mallet though the hoops. All that crap you did takes all the fun out of it."

"Is the activity meant to be fun?"

"Not when you hit my ball out of bounds."

"I believe that the tactic is one of the regulations of the activity. When one's ball hits the opponent's, in what is known as a roquet, one has the opportunity to place one's ball on the grass adjoining the other ball. One then places a foot on one's own ball, utilizing the approximate elastic collision created from tapping one's own ball with the mallet, ultimately sending the opposing player's ball to an area of one`s choosing. If I may  
illustrate with an equation--"

"God-dammit, Spock--"

"Croquet?" Kirk interrupted the two. "That's my favorite game."

"Yeah, Jim, you should have been there. We had a blast."

Kirk mumbled something unintelligible.

"Have you two gentlemen learned your lines for today?" Spock asked.

"Our what?" both Kirk and McCoy exclaimed in unison.

"Your dialogue for the filming. We have twenty pages of it to film today," Spock replied nonchalantly.

"I suppose *you* have," McCoy shot back.

"Of course," Spock replied. "It is, unfortunately, riddled with many technical errors. The author confused a simple anti-matter flux converter with a flux drive. Additionally it takes eleven point three two minutes to adequately perform a cold re-start of the warp core, not the three minutes they were intimating. After I had made certain adjustments to the text, I proceeded to commit to memory the entire script."

"I didn't even consider that we might have to actually film today," gasped McCoy. "What if Scotty doesn't pull us back right away? We can't even get our communicators till that properties man gives them back. If he does."

"Man, that sure sounds like a groovy story," the cab driver broke into the conversation and made the three realize he'd been eavesdropping all along. "I'm really looking forward seeing that episode on the television. Uh...Mr. Nimoy?"

Spock didn't look up at him till McCoy hit his shoulder and indicated at the driver.

"I'm your biggest fan, sir," the driver continued. "It's funny when you argue with Dr. McCoy."

"I am quite adept at pointing out the doctor's shortcomings," Spock said humbly. McCoy rolled his eyes.

"I have a question, sir," the driver said. "I've noticed your yellow skin. Do you apply your make-up before you leave home?"

McCoy grinned first at Spock, then at the driver. "It's permanent make-up," McCoy answered for Spock. "Saves time that way."

"Far out," said the driver. "Plastic surgery?"

"That's right," said McCoy. "Hey Spock, show him your ears!"

Spock shot a glance in McCoy's direction then reluctantly pulled his cap off. The driver gasped. "They look so real!"

"They feel real too," McCoy added. He reached over to pinch an ear tip till Spock pulled out of his grasp.

"The studio paid for it all," Kirk jumped in. "Cost them a ton of credits...uh...money..."

"Yeah," McCoy said. "I remember when he was complaining bitterly about having to sit down for two, three hours for the make-up job so they offered him the surgery. Lucky bastard."

"They'll bob them when we get cancelled," Kirk said. "Next thing you know he`ll want a telephone in his dressing room."

"And a secretary," McCoy offered.

"And an office," Kirk said.

"And some pens."

"And a bicycle."

Spock looked at the pair and shook his head.

"Well, it's better than the mechanical rice picker story," Kirk whispered.

____________

Stay tuned for more....


	4. Chapter 4

Title: Keeping Up Appearances: Desilu Studios.

Author: T'Prillah

Codes: Friendship. K, S, Mc, HUMOR.

Rated: PG (mild language)

Summary: Due to a rip in time, Kirk, Spock and McCoy are trapped on Earth in the late 1960's in Los Angeles, California beaming into the old Desilu Studios transporter room set. Chapter 1: deals with Spock going home to the Nimoy's family, Chapter 2: is Dr. McCoy's version, Chapter 3: takes place monday morning-(they still haven't gotten rescued by Scotty!) and this chapter 4: takes places at Desilu Studios. Kirk, Spock and McCoy step in for filming for the 3 actors.

_____________________________________________________

KEEPING UP APPEARANCES: DESILU STUDIOS (Scenes 1 & 2)

"Well, well, well," growled Pat Westmore, the make-up man, as he stood there in the make-up trailer with hands on hips, tapping one foot. He was smoking the 17th cigarette of the day and it was only 7:30am. "If it isn't Mr. Kelley and Mr. Nimoy. Nice of you to join us. I've only been waiting on you an hour. I would have given your slots away to someone else, if you weren't the damn principals."

Spock and McCoy strode into the make-up trailer, realizing that all eyes were on them. The doctor slunk down dejectedly in the make-up chair that had the actor's name on it corresponding to him. "Sorry."

"And what about you?" Westmore said with narrowed eyes to Spock who sat himself very primly in the chair next to McCoy. "Your make-up is already done. What the hell? Who did it?"

"I completed it myself at my dwelling," Spock replied calmly. McCoy chuckled at the bold faced lie that came from the Vulcan's lips.

The make-up man examined Spock closely and finally, begrudgingly admitted, "You did okay. Needs a little touching up though. The ears don't look as good as usual. What'd you do, reuse an appliance?"

For lack of a better answer the Vulcan replied: "Affirmative."

"Dammit!" Westmore snapped as he began touching up the Vulcan's ears and applying silver eyeshadow under the eyebrows. "I told you not to do that. Didn't I tell him that, De?"

"If you've told him once, you've told him a thousand times," McCoy said, smirking. Spock shot him a look out of the corner of his eye.

"You'll do too much damage to your skin," Westmore carried on complaining, "then my union will have my head on a platter, then Gene will hear about it and then what am I gonna do, huh?"

"My most humble apologies," said Spock.

McCoy couldn't help himself and snorted.

Westmore's head snapped up and noticed the CMO was going to need a haircut soon. "Put your foundation on, De," he ordered gruffly. "Time's a wastin'. I've got a boatload of extras to make-up and my assistant is swamped."

"Foundation?" McCoy leaned forward and discovered what the make-up man was talking about. He held up the _'Pan-cake_' tin. "This? You mean I have to actually wear this stuff?"

Westmore sighed, shook his head and grumbled something unbecoming about actors. He looked into his pack of cigs and realized he'd smoked them all so he sauntered off to look for a cup of strong hot coffee and maybe some Valium.

Captain Kirk could be heard protesting loudly to the hairstylist on the other side of the make-up trailer: "Now, I'm serious! This is really my own hair! Leave it alone!"

* * *

"Spock," McCoy muttered to the Vulcan as they'd left their respective dressing rooms. They slunk along the multitude of offices, sets in various stages of construction, lighting stands, apple boxes, various equipment, lengths of cable, crew milling around conversing in hushed whispers on walkie talkies, to finally reach to the soundstage where the sickbay 'set' stood. There was frantic activity around them, but they were oblivious to it. They did know their way around since appearing here last Friday, but it was the first time they were to have a full shooting day. "I can't do this. Not again."

"We must," Spock replied.

"I know, but I feel absolutely ridiculous." He ran his hands down his uniform/costume and grimaced. "This fabric feels odd. My real sickbay smock doesn't feel like this. What'd they do with mine? This one itches. I don't even look like myself."

Spock raised an eyebrow and studied the doctor. McCoy looked like he always did, except for the curled eyelashes, blush, the foundation covering the moles on the forehead and face, and the pale blue eye make-up. Perhaps his hair appeared better styled then it usually was. There were no wrinkles to be found on the sickbay smock. All in all it was perhaps an improvement on the doctor's usual appearance. "We must do exactly as the actors who fill our roles must do, until Mr. Scott can beam us back, otherwise we will disturb the space-time continuum."

"When in the hell is he gonna locate us?"

"I am unable to ascertain, due to the current unavailability of my tricorder."

"Hmph." McCoy snarled, then studied him. "You seem so damned confident."

"Perhaps it is because I have actually learned my lines for the day," Spock admonished. "You have not done so, even at this time."

"Dammit, Spock. I'm a Doctor not an actor!" McCoy complained, ignoring the snicker of a nearby grip standing around munching on a donut. " I was hoping we'd be home by now. I haven't actually acted in anything since I was in the fourth grade, when I had to play the part of the Papa Billy Goat in 'The Three Billy Goats Gruff'."

"The Three Billy Goats Gruff? The children's nursery rhyme?"

"I see you know of it. Well, it's a long story as to how I got the part in the first place. Probably not the best time to tell it--"

"I am sure you shall, anyway."

McCoy glared at him, looking as grumpy as he could in blue eye make-up. "That's enough outta you. Anyway, Charlie originally was cast as the Papa Billy Goat, but he wouldn't stop complainin' about having to wear the tights, so I had to step in and take over."

"Wearing tights?"

"Yeah, but just like Charlie was, I was also traumatized by the tights wearing, so I steadfastly refused to do another play, ever. Eventually became a doctor, instead."

"Fascinating."

"Yes. So you see, Spock, I can't _act_ like a doctor! It'll bring back memories! I'll freeze up!"

"You do not have to wear tights to play a doctor."

"That we know of, Spock," McCoy replied, sighing. "That we know of."

Suddenly Jim sauntered up, looking rather too damned happy for his own good. "You two ready to do this? I am!"

McCoy grumbled something under his breath.

"What did he say?" Kirk asked Spock.

"The good doctor retorted something vulgar about having a tights flash-back," Spock reported.

"I said, 'It's like having your damned dick in a sling', Jim," McCoy muttered. "I'm telling you, I can't do this acting thing."

Kirk laughed. "Bones, take it easy. All we have to do is be ourselves. How difficult is it for us to do that?"

A stunningly beautiful, brunette woman, wearing a costume that left little to the imagination sauntered past them. "Hello," she called out to the three of them.

Kirk spun around, taken aback, nearly gaping at her. "Hi." She sashayed on and he watched her ass intently as she walked. "That must be my love interest."

"Actually." Spock opened up the script and pointed to a line of dialogue. "She is McCoy's."

"What? Let me see that." Kirk practically ripped the hard covered script pages out of the Vulcan's hands. He briefly read a few lines of McCoy's dialogue to himself: "'Are you lonely?' 'Yes, very lonely.' 'Is there a woman for you?' 'No there's isn't'--"

"Well they got that one right, didn't they," McCoy said, still glum.

Kirk snickered at the doctor, and read on: "McCoy and Natira kiss...." There was a shocked expression that suddenly changed into an intense frown. He closed up the script, handed it back to Spock and said nothing more.

McCoy grinned satisfactorly. "There is a God after all."

Kirk put his hands on his hips and looked around. "Where's the writer? I've got to get a script change." He stalked off.

Spock and McCoy reached their respective director's chairs and sat down near the giant Panavision camera. "All right," McCoy insisted. "Help me with my lines. Mind meld with me or whatever you gotta do. Just do it and fast."

The Vulcan rolled his eyes.  
_______________

Stay tuned for Keeping Up Appearances: Desilu Studios (Scenes 3 & 4)


End file.
